


Monarch Meets Mystic

by NewtTaylor (gentlemanofquality)



Series: The King's Visionary [1]
Category: Galavant (TV), Psych
Genre: Blasphemy, Crossover, Gen, I Have Ideas., M/M, Pre-Slash, i cant tell if i want ppl to read this or not, i wrote this in like 2 hours while listening to wham! so its good right?, only because shawn attributes his powers to god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3412730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlemanofquality/pseuds/NewtTaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>king richard is bored by himself in an empty castle (gal doesnt count, hes never out of his room writing in his diary). enter two men who claim to be able to divine knowledge through mystical means. the king is delighted to have someone to spend time with at last, even if he is kinda handsy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monarch Meets Mystic

“Your Majesty! A mystic from far oversea has come to offer you his services!”

King Richard looked up from his throne, his chin on his hand. He’d been in a state of half-sleep, bored to death without Gareth or his ex-wife or that tiny rodent-y chef kid around to talk to. “What?” he asked groggily. “A who?”

The nervous looking underling tentatively approached the King. In awed tones, he explained: “A visionary. One blessed by God with insight into the future and the past. He says he can divine anything anyone asks.”  His tone became more pragmatic as he added: “Also he claims he can help you update the castle’s security-”

“Seriously, I can just walk right in. Your Highness, that’s hardly _safe_ , is it?” A strangely-accented voice came from the entryway to the throne room.

The intruder wore a light blue tunic in a simple belted style and a small cape. He carried no weapon, though he did appear to have a bag. He had thick, slightly curly hair, shorter than fashionable but longer than, say, Galavant’s. He was unshaven but did not wear a beard. The look on his face could best be described as “smug”.

The King stood, pointing a finger.

“Guards! Seize him!”

The one guard on duty stepped forward grabbed the intruder’s arm at the elbow. The man shrugged him off, stepping towards the King intently. He didn’t look threatening, so the King didn’t make a fuss. Instead he grabbed at his waist for his scabbard – which wasn’t there (damn it damn it damn it!) – and sat down again, legs crossed and hand stroking his beard. He wanted to give off an air of imperial disinterest. He probably was coming off more as petulant, but whatever.

“What do you want, peasant?”

The man mumbled something that sounded like “peasant yourself”, then he put on a bright smile and started speaking in lofty tones. “Your Highness, I am here to humbly offer my services as a mystic and visionary. My name is-”

“Seaghan!”

A second intruder came through. He had the same accent as the first man and seemed to be speaking to him. His dress was less eye-catching than the visionary’s, and he shaved his hair _a la_ Gareth. He looked more like an off the clock apothecary than a mystic. He also looked panicked.

“Seaghan, you can’t be in here, it’s the throne room! The King could – ohh no…” He saw the King and froze in his tracks, right behind apparently-Seaghan. “Your Highness, I am so sorry. My partner did _not_ realize where he was going!”

“Of course I knew where I was going! Straight to the boss! Now shush.” Barely missing a beat, he returned to his speech. “My name is Seaghan of Spence, and this is my partner, Sir Humphery Gloucester.” Judging by the face the second man was making, this was clearly not his real name. “We are travelling mystics. Well, I’m a mystic, he’s my interpreter. The visions don’t always come straight, y’know? The point is, we’re here to offer guidance and insight into your problems, my Liege. If you’ll have us, we can be of great service as advisors.”

The King raised his eyebrows. “Fascinating! Mystics, you say? I’ve got to see that in action!”

“Gloucester” looked despairing. Spence looked delighted. “If you don’t mind, Your Highness, I can give you a private session right now!”

The King stood, clapping his hands with glee. He was going to have his fortune told! And if he heard anything he didn’t like, he could always execute them. He might have fun today yet!

.

The visionary closed his eyes, holding the King’s hands in his own. They sat in an alcove of the King’s chambers, sitting in chairs separated by a small, velvet draped table. The candles in the room flickered, sending shadows over their faces. His hands were warm, a little smaller than the King’s own. The extended physical contact made the King feel slightly flustered, but he stayed quiet and motionless as per Spence’s instructions.

After about thirty seconds, Spence’s brow briefly creased, then his whole face relaxed. He opened his eyes and slowly released the King’s hands.

“Your Highness. May I offer my condolences for a broken heart?”

The King’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I- how did you _know_?!”

Spence shook his head, smiling. “It’s a gift from God.” His smile faltered somewhat, and he said, quiet: “It isn’t always pleasant, you know. I’ve seen some terrible things in my time, Your Majesty.”

“Gosh, that’s awful… What a burden.” The King leaned in, fascinated by the young mystic. He rested his chin on his hand, gazing in considerable interest at this gifted subject.

“I stay positive.” He shut his eyes again, one hand coming to his temple as his head tilted like he was listening to something. “Also, I can see… you have problems asserting yourself and people have accused you of being effeminate in the past?”

How on Earth could he see that from looking for but a moment? Truly he had divine insight. “I’m convinced. You’re hired!” The King stood and proclaimed to an absent audience: “A feast tonight! To welcome the talented Seaghan of Spence and his holy gifts!”

“Sweet!”

.

The great hall of King Richard’s castle was much roomier than that of Valencia’s, and it had more windows. The table was long and wooden, polished to a shine. It was loaded with all of the King’s favorite dishes. The castle cooks had been more than happy to be re-engaged after over a year of the King’s absence, and those that had been angered by his return without notice were, of course, now languishing in the dungeon.

Seaghan and Gloucester walked into the hall, chatting animatedly. Gloucester seemed very intent on convincing Seaghan about _something_ , but the mystic rolled his eyes and muttered something about not being a plague-ridden ship’s cat, Gus.

“Welcome, honored guests!” The King stood from his place at the head of the table and offered them seats. “Feel free to begin eating, even though Galavant hasn’t arrived yet.” He patted his mouth delicately with a napkin.

Spence took a seat a few chairs down from the King. He looked impressed. “Galavant’s here? I _love_ that guy!” He looked at Gloucester as if to say "am I right?".

His companion nodded enthusiastically as he sat down and pulled a leg of pheasant onto his plate. “His defeat of the Ogre of Oregon is a personal favorite tale of mine.”

The King frowned, lower lip jutting out in what would be, for anyone not as butch as him, a pout. “Oh come on, guys! He’s not _that_ great!”

The two guests stared at him blankly.

“Well alright, he’s _pretty_ cool. He’s, you know, decently heroic.” He sawed a piece of meat ineffectively.

“He’s a legend!” Spence said, popping a slice of fruit into his mouth. “If you ask me, he singlehandedly saved the hero profession in 1249 when he stopped wearing those huge sleeves.  You just can’t hold a sword with those in the way.”

“You know that’s right.”

“Hey, my Leige, what do you – who are they?” Galavant, the leather-clad hero, strode into the hall and stopped upon seeing the two interlopers. His pretty face twisted in confusion.

The King gestured expansively. “This is Seaghan of Spence and, uh, Humphery Gloucester! Seaghan here is a mystic. He gets visions from God.”

Galavant groaned, burying his face in a hand. “Visions,” he repeated.

The visionary raised a hand. “Galavant, is it?”

“Yes. But I expect you’ve heard about me before.” He tossed his head slightly, unable to stop doing a bit of a pose.

“Of course we have! Galavant, the great hero? We love your work.” Spence and Gloucester gave him matching grins, looking for all the world like two little boys meeting a childhood idol.

Galavant walked to the table and poured himself a drink. “Do I have to eat with these charlatans?”

“Have some respect, Gal!” the King chided. “They’re my guests.”

“ _Please_ don’t call me Gal, Your Majesty.” He took a long drink.

The visionary narrowed his eyes. As the hero put down his goblet and sat down with a sigh, he said: “You miss her, I know. But she wouldn't want you to fall back into drinking like you did last time.”

Galavant blinked in surprise at the statement. The King clasped his hands in delight, chuckling. “You see? He knows things through divine intervention! He wants to advise me, and I think it’s a _great_ idea!”

“I don’t care, Your Highness. Do whatever you think is best, I guess.”

“You’re a lot less judgmental than Gareth, Gal. I like that about you!”

“Ngh,”

The new additions to the royal staff watched the exchange with amusement.

.

The next day, Spence took a walking tour of the castle with the King, Gloucester having said he had some business in town and couldn’t come with and Galavant having to sleep off his hangover (“I told him,” said Seaghan). They walked through the grounds, the King explaining the history of certain areas and telling personal anecdotes and the mystic nodding sagely and occasionally pointing out areas where the walls could be breached or someone had been farming strange mushrooms.

The King found himself enjoying the time he was spending with Seaghan. Being with him was like if Steve hadn’t been shagging his wife, or if Gareth wasn’t constantly upset with him. Friendly, that’s what it was. The man was friendly. Plus he listened to him, which most people didn’t do unless he also threatened to execute them.

As the visionary gestured down at the moat from the ramparts, the King found himself wondering if this was just another Pearl situation. Was Seaghan just being nice because he was royal?

“Your Highness?” The King had never been good at hiding when he was distracted.

“You can, uh, call me Richard, Spence,” he mumbled without thinking. He went pink, avoiding Seaghan’s gaze. Damn his mouth! Spence probably thought he was a huge weirdo now.

“Cool! And you can call me Seaghan, _Richard_!”

A hand squeezed his bicep slightly, compatibly. Richard tentatively looked up. The mystic was smiling at him. His blush deepened.

**Author's Note:**

> seaghan is pronounced shawn, basically.  
> in other words im gay and i love garbage  
> i'd be remiss if i didnt blame feriowind for this but I Made My Choice and did this all on my own


End file.
